Page 147 of A Dance With Fire
She’d come back for them, for him. And no words could ever express how wrong he was about her, and no apology could ever make up for the things he’d said in his own fear and heartbreak. But he would start with this.
His hands slid across her back, spanning against her ass. He squeezed before he lifted, sliding her body up against his until her legs wrapped around his waist. Then he was kissing her all over again, something prominent inside him urging he consummate the mating bond. Raw and primal urges that he’d shoved away for so long since he’d met her came out all at once. And this time, he listened.
His legs swallowed up the space towards the stairs, then he climbed and made his way down the hall, listening for any sign of movement behind the closed doors, all while Shula’s lips devoured him.
He groaned, feeling every touch like bolts of lightning across his skin and made it to his room, kicking the door open and closed again once they were inside. Only then did he set her to her feet. She swayed a little, which brought a smile to his face.
The room wasn’t the most romantic of settings. It smelt like damp stone, and the small hay-stuffed pallet meant as a bed was flat. A single white sheet that smelt clean was folded neatly down on it. There was no illumination save for the single beam of moonlight peeking through the only window. Candles burned to the wick were tapered against the walls, but they didn’t burn.
There was so much Ryker wanted to say, so many words that were on the tip of his tongue, apologies that wouldn’t be half as worthy as what she deserved, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to say a thing. The time for talking wasn’t now. Not now, when this buzzing heat had been building between them for weeks. When desire was so close and still so far away. It was vibrating through his body, making his limbs tremble with wanting.
His need for her was a slow spreading ache.
So he touched her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. Shula leaned into his touch, like it was as hard for her to keep to herself as it was for him.
“Be sure, Fire Dancer,” he whispered. “Be sure it’s me you want. Because I want you. All of you.”
Ryker had never been self-conscious about his scars. But if Shula let him go further, she would see the rest of his body. She would see the maze of pain he wore against his flesh. He knew it was nothing to be ashamed of, that they were a testament to the lives he’d saved. Yet in a moment of weakness, he wondered if she would be repulsed by the amount there.
In response, Shula’s fingers drifted to the lapels of his jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. Heat burned in her eyes, a seductress ready to take. And he let her, dropping his hand so she could pull the jacket past his arms, his hands, and drop it to the floor. Her fingers lifted the hem of his tunic, pulling it up slowly, heat grazing across the panes of his bared stomach. His whole body tensed, waiting as she pulled it over his shoulders. Once the garment was out of the way, Ryker held his breath. Waited.
Flames danced behind her golden-brown eyes as she took him in. All his imperfection laid bare for her to see.
Scars bisected along his body, a spiderweb of them that traced jagged edges. Some marks were older than others, some more prominent, white, red, in angry, slashing figures across his body. They traced along his arms, his back, even his navel.
A tentative touch was all it took to break him. As her fingers lifted to gently trace along the old wounds, a guttural growl pushed from Ryker’s throat.
“Shula…”
Like his voice had been an invitation, she leaned forward, eyes fluttering closed, the starred points of her lashes kissing her cheekbones, and she pressed a kiss to the scar right over his heart.
His heart pounded, and he was sure she could feel it against her mouth.
Ryker tried to reach for her then, but Shula pulled away, a slow curling smile on her mouth as she stepped back. Her eyes said the words her mouth didn’t. She didn’t break contact as her fingers slowly worked along her own clothes.
It was a teasing, sensual dance she gave him. Toeing off her shoes and socks first, she turned, moving and undulating her body like a flame. One by one, lights flickered on above them.
Not light.
Little balls of flames that curled and molded into figures to illuminate her in a brighter light. She still had magic inside her, and she let it burn brightly until her skin glowed golden and every step around the room was a promise of seduction. She moved,danced.It was nothing like that night so many weeks ago. The night when she’d been hazy with Fae wine and moved across the bonfire for entertainment.
This was different, because it was forhim.
Fire sparked to life around her body like a whip, trailing sparks around her with each firm movement. Shula Azzarh danced like fire. One with the heat, flickering seduction, a hypnotism that held him enraptured in her very essence.
And each step brought her articles of clothing off.
One by one.
Jacket.
Tunic.
Pants.
She whirled, hands reaching to her back to grasp the hem of her thin shift. When it hit the floor in a puddle at her feet, Ryker felt the breath leave his lungs. Then her fingers were against her undergarments, hooking into the waistband and tugging. Slow, low, revealing inch by inch the soft curves of her ass as she bent over to tug the material away from her ankles.
She stood.
